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by ornithia



Series: Had to be You [10]
Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornithia/pseuds/ornithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of the end. Alternatively - the ending had only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble prompts, based upon roleplay at [my SG Jetfire roleplaying blog](http://i-willraisehell.tumblr.com/)

No.

_"Y-You’re next, you know …"_

Please, not this-

_"-idiot."_

-no, no, no! Jetfire had practically shot out of the sky at speeds beyond his capability and _still_ he hadn’t been fast enough. There, on the ground, sprawled out with a gaping hole in his chest that poured smoke lay Wheeljack, just about offline. Only his flickering optics, once so bright and flaming in their intensity, showed any evidence of his ember’s essence, struggling to keep a grasp on the frame that was quickly losing touch with reality.

**_"You can’t do this to me."_ **

It was all the flier could muster, really, as he bent down on the ground, tentatively picking at the would-be corpse. That he was wallowing with the filth of the earth was ironic - it was not too long ago that he would have scoffed at the idea, called it preposterous and taken to the skies. Such notions had been abandoned the moment he’d joined his ember to that of his “fallen angel’s”, before all the stars in all the heavens in _all_ the universe. It had not been rehearsed - in fact, it had never even been brought up before that single drunken act of spontaneity out in the silent void of space. But he’d taken the resulting responsibility in stride, driven by instinct, by pride - perhaps even a little bit of awe and affection for the grounder that inspired both fury and infatuation in sinful, lustful, often pitiful bounty.

"Just … **_hold on-“_**

Wheeljack was fading fast in Jetfire’s arms. The flier was unconventional, unprofessional, and untrained, but he was at least a quick thinker. Without hesitation he bared his core, glowing and writhing with impatient color and ardour. Pressing his chassis to the ruined one of the dying mech in his arms, he let out a hiss - it hurt. It actually, _physically_ burned him to do this, searing him from the inside out. Through it all, however, he kept their frames together, even as the overwhelming sensation managed to surpass even _his_ masochist’s threshold for pain and assault his systems to the point of traumatic circuit overload. Cowed over by the intensity, Jetfire continued to whisper words of encouragement in his desperation - in all manner of pleas, promises, and threats, all empty. Because surely, this act would be worth it in the end, if it could help preserve at least one of them, right?

"…"

In the end it turned out his actions were for naught - the shattered glass of his cockpit littered the ground green, to match the blood spilled by his bondmate in his dying throes. Lifting his helm, Jetfire’s dark optics scanned the cold weight beneath him, blindly. His lips traced reverent paths down worn fingers; his teeth grazed across familiar notches. He bit down on a seam, gently at first, until the nip devolved into a sickening crunch that popped right through the plating, to the underlying joints below. Jetfire felt the weight in his chest lurch forward, threatening to spill as realisation dawned fast upon him.

… I’m **_next._**


End file.
